League of Legends: The Last War
by Kronesian
Summary: When the League of Legends is mysteriously and forcefully disbanded during the annual League Championship Series, the continent of Valoran is thrown into chaos and war. The land is already fragile from the previous rune wars; can it survive another conflict on the scale shown?
1. Prologue: History of the League

The Institute of War was all abuzz. Magicians and summoners of all walks bustled about the large chamber halls.

The Institute of War is a monumental building housing Valoran's many politicians and champions. It towers towards the sky in great, ovoid shapes of whites and golds, with all the patterns of the League and the city-states of Valoran. These great floating towers - which people transport between using teleportation nodes - are held aloft by the massive and magically enriched Nexus Stones, powerful rune stones that keep the Institute running. The building also extends into several underground chasms, where the League's officials work in secret. Also contained within the underground of the Institute are the Testing Chambers. Within these chambers Champions are inducted into the League of Legends as competitors.

The Institute stands ground between two of the mightiest and most warlike city-states of Valoran - Demacia and Noxus - as a very forceful buffer. The history between these rivals is something fierce, and only the instalment of the League of Legends may have prevented them from causing a final, fatal Runewar.

The League of Legends is Valoran's premier governing body, formed of the continent's most powerful and famous magi bound by a writ of union to protect Runeterra - the great plane of existence in which the continent of Valoran sits. It consists of the High Council, the three highest members of the League, who oversee its progression and handling of political affairs, as well as the lesser Councillors, Adjudicators, League Emissaries, and Summoners.

The League's role is to keep the peace of Valoran such that another Runewar may never arise - wars in which the powerful magi of conflicting nations demonstrated such raw magical might the land itself began to warp and sunder beneath the pressure of the magic.

Though some of the aforementioned magicians were just returning to the Institute of War, most of the traffic was outgoing - bound for the famous Summoner's Rift.

This is the beginning of a tale surrounding the darkest period in the League's history.. where all was thrown into uncertainty, and only the greatest and most heroic of the champions could mend the broken chains which bound the League together.


	2. Arc I: Fall of the League - Phase I

**Arc I: Fall of the League**

**Phase I: Snake in the Grass**

Great floating stands made of timber formed a stadium-esque border around the usually solitary rift, held aloft by summoner magicks approved by the League.

Soon those stands would soon fill with people of all walks - stuffy Noxian nobles, raucus Bilgewater sailors, gentle Ionian porcelain-figure women, and even those oddities like Yordles or boys from Rakkor who came to study the art of war as performed by Valoran's Michelangelos and Rafaels.

As people trickled into the stands, three figures sat in a singular boxed-in, throne-like area to the north of the Summoner's Rift Arena: the High Council of Equity, which oversaw the League and served as the head of operations, keeping it running smoothly. Their names were Vessaria Kulminye, Jacque Yvaeto, and Rhys Herris.

Vessaria glowered over the teeming forest, her jaded icy eyes darting from monster pit to monster pit – pocketed dens carved into the massive jungle of the rift where various wildlife from across Valoran were housed to enhance the thrill of the iconic political matches which took place in the Summoner's Rift battlefield. Nearest to one of the two battle-scarred fortresses which housed the opposing teams, lesser Murkwolves skirmished over the bones of some unfortunate feeder rat while the matron looked on in lackadaisical boredom. Beyond this camp, she couldn't see much else: the others were shrouded beneath a vibrant forest canopy.

Murkwolves appeared throughout many of Valoran's forests, and they had a history for vicious pack tactics. Skirmishes for leadership were rare, however: a Matron was born, not chosen. The two-headed females were rare indeed, but they didn't need the birthright they had to rule: Matrons almost always cost the wildlife bounty hunters their lives. Vessaria once insisted that she observe a hunt to ensure the methods of the contracted bounty hunters did not injure or otherwise hold back the monsters of the Rift from their full potential. She never repeated the mistake, having nearly been a meal for one Matron when the bounty hunters were baited trying to capture the lesser Murkwolves.

Not far from the Murkwolves preyed a Gromp in each half of the vast jungle: these massive toads came straight from Kumungu Jungle and had enough toxin in their skin and spit to put most of their would-be predators down for good. Opposite these poisonous monstrosities rested one of the prize "camps", as the Champions which so often skirmished here called them: the Blue Sentinels. These enigmatic creatures naturally resided within the Rift's walls, and seemed to come straight from the stony rises themselves. They were hulking golems held together by crystalline blue energy from the Rift's Nexus Stones, and they always had two smaller beings – which some theorized to be controlled by the Blue Sentinels – in their company.

A large river divided the battleground at this point. River didn't quite seem to be the right term, Vessaria frequently thought. It was shallow – perhaps no more than two feet, judging by the way Yordles could wander through relatively uninhibited. In the eastern half of the jungle, one of the few and mythical dragons made its home. The League was fortunate for this: when a handful of summoners came across an abandoned clutch of eggs, they began breeding the dragons in controlled batches, for wild ones were far too ambitious to reliably capture and maintain in the Rift. In the western half of the jungle, then, was the real gem which made the Rift such an iconic battleground: Nashor Baron.

Summoner's Rift was a discovered place, and Vessaria knew that. The League had not invented it. They had not placed the Nexus Stones there, either – though the small lifeless creatures – referred to as Minions – were certainly of their own devising. Nashor Baron, then, was the Rift's custodian long before the League's summoners harnessed it. This was something the League's officials had to accept. Anybody who had ever attempted to dislodge the Baron ended up as toxic green slag. The creature didn't even leave a body to recover. Many theorized about Nashor Baron's origins, but one this had been made clear by the creature: It was here to stay.

How fortunate, then, that the Baron made for interesting encounters during League matches.

Moving beyond the river, the second half of each jungle housed an equally vast array of wild-caught creatures: the reptilian yet oddly birdlike Raptors, the deceptive Krugs, and the Red Bramblebacks. The Raptors were another pack-animal, which made harvesting them from the Voodoo lands a simpler task. They followed an Alpha Male, usually one of the largest and nastiest Raptors in a territorial area. These creatures looked like oversized, heavily armed chickens, but fought with the tenacity and coordination which made them more than mere pests: the Raptors were hunted down whenever they were sighted north of Great Barrier that divided the ravaged southern half of Runeterra from the northern, more populated half. The Krugs, then, were creatures of Shuriman origin: turtle-like entities encased in heavy, near-impenetrable rock shells. Finally, not unlike the Blue Sentinels, the Red Bramblebacks appeared to come straight from the natural fauna of the rift itself, bound together by runic energies imbued within the Nexus Stones.

Vessaria allowed herself a pittance of respite: the Institute of War had worked hard to make this year's championship one to remember. The Noxus-born woman's smile belied any other thoughts that might be lingering behind her mind's eye.

The League's Champions would be far too embroiled in today's match to notice the snake in the grass until it had already lunged: and for this poison, there would be no antidote.


	3. Arc I: Fall of the League - Phase II

**Arc I: Fall of the League**

**Phase II: Championship, part I**

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the **League of Legends**!"

As the voice of long-time League of Legends Championship host, Mendicus Giornalis, boomed over the great valley called Summoner's Rift, an answering chorus of voices cheered in response. Mendicus Giornalis was one of those oddities out of the city-state of Zaun: a man with absurd violet hair, an acute face adorned with a precision-cut goatee and three studs in his left ear – each regularly adapted to whatever color and style he chose to wear his hair. He represented the lighter side of the League of Legends: it had become as much a sport which the citizens of Valoran swarmed to watch as it had been a device through which city-states could settle political disputes without rending the land asunder with pointless warfare.

The crowd's ruckus settled to a low rumble as the citizens of Valoran discussed this year's championship match-up in hushed whispers while Mendicus continued.

"As is custom," Mendicus resumed, his voice dropping low and with it, the crowd's whispers. His voice now mixed with the emotions of lament and hope.

"Every year when the League Championship approaches, we cleanse ourselves of our political boundaries. Whether Zaunite or Piltovian, Demacian or Noxian, we are all fortunate souls to live in the hospital north of Valoran, safe from those atrocities our ancestors committed beyond the Great Barrier."

The rumble of the crowd immediately cut off into complete silence at these words. An air of stillness fell over the floating timber stands surrounding Summoner's Rift. The Runewars of their many ancestors once nearly tore all of Runeterra apart: nobody could deny it, and nobody could forget it, either. Every year, Mendicus opened with this grim reminder of why the Institute of War had designed the League of Legends in the first place. He'd succeeded in roping the audience in: no matter how often they heard the ploy, the bait was just as alluring as if it were the first time the audience had heard it.

"Our brave champions, who represent the far corners of Valoran, join us in disbanding political allegiances when the Championship approaches. They forgive their enemies and forget their friends."

The crowd's eerie silence persisted. They knew what came next.

"And so, without further ado, we present the last three years' winners before introducing this year's championship teams."

Large crystals similar to those of the Nexus stones, embedded in the floating timber stands housing the audience, began projecting over Summoner's Rift. Their combined light created a large cube-like viewscreen with one side facing north, west, south, and east so that everybody in the audience could see. Embedded in these crystals were Memory Geodes. These small inventions of the Institute of War recorded the battles of Summoner's Rift, allowing their memories to be preserved for future showings.

Rising up from the Rift's heart, a stone pillar borne by another small runestone came to rest just under the cube-like projection. Four banners remained furled at the top of the pillar.

"From three years' past: SKT!"

The first banner unfurled to reveal Jax the arm's master, Zed the disciple of shadows, Lee Sin the blind monk, Vayne vigilante of Demacia, and Zyra an oddity from the Kumungu Jungle. They posed together in a custom-made uniforms of reds and oranges with two iconic wings emblazoned onto each outfit.

Mendicus then followed with the second-year championship team: Fnatic. Sporting a black-and-orange scheme, the team of five posed confidently on their banner. They had been made up of Corki the pilot, Gragas the unusually capable drunkard, Janna the sorcerous of wind, Jarvan IV the crown prince of Demacia, and Karthas, an undead being from the Shadow Isles – one of the more diverse teams to have ever won.

The previous' year's winners fought under the name TPA, and wore uniforms of white and red. Their posterboy was Ezreal, the young explorer who carried with him the key to many of Valorian hearts. Following him was the revered and feared Dr. Mundo of Zaun, the young yeti-befriending boy Nunu, a machine hailing from Piltover known simply as Orianna, and one of Ionia's greatest defenders, Shen.

With each banner's revelation, the crowd's cheers went up. Though some may have booed (there were always under-the-table bets on which championship team would win), they were drowned out by the pure excitement the vast majority of the audience held. Just when the excitement couldn't thought to be any higher, Mendicus guided the audience into the apex of the pre-championship match.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for. Join me in the Fields of Justice as our beloved champions come to blows in the valley below our very feet! Introducing this year's championship teams: Samsung White and Pentakill!"

The southern fortress of Summoner's rift lit up as the Nexus runestone and many lesser stones illuminated the darkened starting platform. The team known as SSW posed there for the ecstatic crowd, all of them wearing crisp blue-and-white uniforms.

Singed, another famous Zaunite scientist, stood a small distance away from the rest of the team while he tinkered with the large gas canister resting on his back. Twitch, a rat-like biped, scampered around Singed and sniffed at the canister once, then filled a few small bottles from Singed's canister after the two conversed. It moved among the other SSW teammates, suggesting which routes to take through the Rift to the enemy fortress.

The other members of this team appeared just as antisocial and solitary as Singed – Thresh, the ghostly collector of souls absentmindedly swung its lantern in loops, the screams of the tormented emanating from the lantern as they were jostled about. Talon, a human from Noxus, sat near one of the three inhibitors inside the base as he checked each of his many blades for the third time. Accompanying him but saying nothing stood the large, tiger-like being known as Rengar.

To the north, the other team appeared to be readying themselves: Pentakill. They decked themselves in a gothic array of blacks and grays. While they also looked antisocial and grim, this team showed more interaction.

Yorick, Mordekaiser and Karthas, three more members of the Shadow Isles, conversed softly about their dreary little island home. Olaf, a barbaric man from Frejlord, attempted to converse with the mute Sona.

"Are ya' ready to kick lass? Get it? Har!"

Sona tried to give the man her most authentic smile, though the scent of mead too-recently-consumed hung on his breath and his obvious body odor from training the past week without rest truly put her off. She couldn't have responded to even if she wanted – she was mute, after all.

Before Olaf could continue to offend her with his overly brutish demeanor, however, the voice of Mendicus Giornalis boomed overhead once more. Both teams snapped their attention to the central projection, where their own faces and banners appeared on the north and south faces of the pillar as it began to rotate clockwise. On the eastern and western faces, a countdown began: thirty seconds until the holding barriers dropped and the teams would compete.

"Ladies and gentlemen I hope you don't have to use the bathroom now! This looking to be one violent and interesting match-up! With only thirty to seconds to go – oh, slow, slow yourself my dear heart – the excitement's going to keep you pinned to your seats until a champion is decided!"

The cheering chorus threatened to pierce the heavens as names of favored champions and teams were called out. SSW's members gathered at the edge of the well, their silent demeanor persisting. To the north, team PK took positions reflecting their opponents to the distant south, and all chatter came to a halt.

"Let the games begin!"

The barriers dropped.


End file.
